


The Heart that Reached for the Sky

by LarkOneironaut



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Character Development, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Haven (Dragon Age), Original Character(s), Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Romantic Fluff, Skyhold (Dragon Age), Slow Burn, Taren Lavellan - Freeform, The Inquisition is one big happy family, slightly gore?, smut maybe? sometime in a future chapter?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:15:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28711086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LarkOneironaut/pseuds/LarkOneironaut
Summary: A collection of happenings and scenarios, basically the journey of Taren Lavellan, her meeting Solas and them falling in love with each other. Begins Pre-Haven und will probably End Post-Trespasser or even DA4
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	The Heart that Reached for the Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Please be nice, English is my third language and I'm sensitive :'D  
> Her name is pronounced Elven because it is canon Elven, so basically Tah-Renn! 
> 
> I'm an artist and I basically only draw Solavellan art, haha! You can find me on Tumblr and Twitter (go to my profile for links)  
> I will try to provide a sketch for every chapter! :D

_My sketches of Taren Lavellan: https://lark-the-oneironaut.tumblr.com/post/638952838859472896/had-fun-with-some-sketchy-taren-lavellan-studies_

Taren had never imagined that her boring life in the Lavellan clan would turn into a life of adventure, danger, and a painful yet fulfilling love far away from the clan. And now her reality consisted of a missing arm, an aching longing inside her, and an irrepressible desire to find him. Her heart.

**~A month before the events in the Temple of Sacred Ashes...~**

"You should not always stray so far from camp, Lethellan!", the Keeper raged after Taren returned from one of her discovery trips. "You are one of our most promising mages, and there are lyrium-dependent templars swarming out there!"

Taren sighed softly. "I know, Keeper."

"Fenedhis! Then why do you put yourself in such danger almost every night?"

"Because the clan bores me, Keeper. I already know everything you taught me. I want more, I want to learn the art of rift magic! And that knowledge is only out there!"

"Where, in the forest? There are nothing but mad templars to be found. You would only acquire such knowledge if you traveled beyond the borders of the Free Marches and searched for a teacher."

"Yes, but that's exactly what I want! Let me go already, I beg you! I want to go to Orlais, to the south of Ferelden, to the Frostback Mountains, and to Tevinter."

"This is suicide, Taren, and you know it! You don't wear your name for no reason. _Mind_ ... Show some sense at last. In Orlais we are merely inferior servants, in the south of Ferelden we are called Halla riders or Blade Ears, and in Tevinter we are slaves! Besides, in those places you are a potential danger being an apostate mage."

Taren snorted disdainfully. "That's ridiculous. You sound like you're afraid of your own shadow."

"And you are acting like an immature child! You will stay here and teach the lesser gifted mages. End of discussion."

Taren tied her long straight auburn hair into a braid and kicked angrily against a log at the outskirts of the camp. No one understood her here. Everyone was content with what they had. They lived their uneventful lives in fear, while she herself would have loved to reach for the sky. She wanted to go to every library out there, read old works of the long dead. Was that not what the Dalish wanted to preserve? The knowledge of the Elvhenan? And yet they did not act like they actually wanted to know everything. She was simply born in the wrong time. Her people were more practical than she would have liked. No one listened to her. They did not even ask her what vallaslin she wanted. And now she wears the redish brown vallaslin of June with the dots on her face, even though she never felt a connection to June. Her parents were simple Halla keepers. Now only her father. Her mother died of blood infection a few years ago. Since then, Taren wanted to know more. She learned the art of healing, which she never really mastered, but at least she knew the theory. She tried her hand at necromancy and any elemental spells she could find. But there was so much more out there. She felt constricted in the ever-changing camp of her clan. Hardly anyone read books here anymore, at least none that weren't written by elves. 

She sat down in the grass in frustration, leaned her head back and looked at the stars melancholically. She blocked out everything around her, the laughing and dancing young Dalish around the campfire, the loud voice of the Keeper who was scolding someone again. She even blocked out the chirping of the crickets in this not too quiet night. She was only aware of the stars twinkling in the night sky, like promises calling out to her. What might ancient Arlathan have been like? She had read stories in ancient texts about the magnificent capital of the Elvhenan Empire. Absolutely fascinating. The ancient elves seemed to have possessed vast amounts of knowledge. Huge libraries were described, with gigantic bookshelves that reached up to the incredibly high ceilings of the buildings. Spirits of wisdom that went in and out and loved to answer questions, to share knowledge. Taren longed so much for old Arlathan, though she probably imagined it more beautiful than it had actually been. She had read of hints of slavery. Hints that described the gods as oppressors. When Taren told the Keeper about her newfound knowledge, the Keeper immediately burned the little book, scolding her that she was just reading nonsense and that she would anger the gods. She should forget everything and pray to Elgar'nan and Mythal for forgiveness, but she did the opposite. She memorized it carefully. She did not believe that the old elven gods had any real, physical influence on her world anyway. What wouldn't she do to hold a book from the time of Arlathan in her hands? She would travel around the world, past slavers and evil tevinterian magisters, she would even leave her clan behind forever. 

Taren snapped out of her thoughts when she heard an inhuman screech. A panicked Halla, she could tell immediately. She quickly turned to the others in the camp, but they did not seem to hear. The music and their singing was too loud. She could not simply ignore the Halla's cry for help, she had grown up with them, had bandaged the wounds of the injured, had brushed them, fed them, played with them. What if that Halla had stepped into a human hunting trap? These devices were instruments of torture.

And so she made a decision - she would investigate the panicked screams of a Halla in the depths of the dark forest. She was not thinking to take her staff with her. It was only a Halla, after all, and not a demon running amok. Carefully, she looked around to make sure everyone was distracted, and at the first opportunity, she dashed into the darkness of the woods.

Gingerly, Taren made her way through the labyrinthine forest. The dry leaves and smaller twigs beneath her feet crackled and crunched with each step. A small fire flickered in her right palm, hovering a few inches above her skin, warming her a little while illuminating her immediate surroundings a bit. She didn't want to completely light up the forest at night and possibly confuse or even scare away some animals and spirits.   
She followed the whimpering and crying of the Halla and her heart tightened painfully with every single noise.

Then suddenly she heard a raspy laugh. She stopped immediately and froze as she spotted a small group of Templars only a few feet in front of her, near a babbling brook. Templars were holding the injured Halla by the hind leg while it desperately tried to free itself from their grip. They must have been on one of their patrols, as they were armed to the teeth and dressed in their distinctive armor. And now they seemed bored enough to torment a defenseless, innocent creature. 

The alarm bells in Taren's head were deafeningly loud and everything in her resisted showing herself. Nevertheless she let the tiny fire in her palm grow into a fireball, which she hurled at the Templars' feet. It was like an impulse, a reflex. The five men cried out and the one holding the Halla let go of it immediately. Frightened and trembling with fear, it hid in a nearby bush.

And now the full attention of the Templars was on Taren. 

"An elven bitch!"

"On top of that, she's a mage!" Their voices sounded veiled, occupied. Had they been drinking?

"That fucking knife ear chased our dinner away," said the one who had been holding the Halla as he pulled a Silverite dagger from his belt. Taren tensely stayed where she was, keeping a close eye on the five men. "I have heard that Dalish hearts taste like deer and are able to make you immune to magic", he suddenly said with a dirty grin on his face as the blade of his dagger flashed in the moonlight. The other templars laughed maliciously.

Taren gasped in horror when she realized her mistake. She had been completely focused on the five Templars in front of her, completely oblivious to her surroundings. She panicked as a sixth Templar grabbed her by the neck from behind and threw her down onto the forest floor. She did not even manage to scream as he pinned her by the throat to the cold ground and laughed at her superiorly.

"Stupid Dalish."

She tried to free herself, to reach for his relentless hand, to catch her breath. But it was pointless. The other Templars had already gathered around her, holding her by the arms and legs - any resistance became impossible. She felt her vision going black, she could not breathe, her heart was pounding in her ears far too fast. The Templars reeked of alcohol and she felt sickened. Then her eyes snapped open in fear as the Templar who was about to cut her heart out placed the tip of the dagger against her chest, just above her panicked throbbing heart. She tried to fight back once more, but the Templars were too strong and Taren needed her hands to fight back with her magic.

"Look at her, wriggling and panting like a wild animal. Even her eyes are yellow, like a mountain lion's," said the Templar with the dagger. The other Templars laughed again, but then Taren surprised them by managing to slip out of the grip of the man choking her and headbutting the Templar with the dagger. He cursed loudly and let his dagger fly aimlessly forward. He cut Taren from above her upper lip to her chin. She cried out in pain and the Templar behind her managed to grab her by the throat again and push her back to the ground.

"That fucking savage bitch! Hold her down, damn you!" screamed the now angry dagger-wielding Templar. "I'll cut your knife ear off for this!" he snarled, grabbing her left ear and cutting into it immediately. Taren screamed at the top of her lungs despite her oxygen mangle.

"Stop it and cut out her heart already, she's going to lead the whole Dalish pack here," one of the Templars suddenly shouted. He sounded almost unsettled.

The Templar with the dagger stopped and ripped it out of her ear. Taren merely felt a burning heat and the blood running down. Had he cut it off? She did not know. The metallic taste of her own blood in her mouth became more and more dominant and every scream hurt because of her sliced upper lip and her sore throat. But then he cut brutally into her chest, she literally felt her breastbone give way and the pain was unbearable. She barely heard it, but two more templars voiced their discomfort and she felt their hands trembling.

But that did not diminish her ever-growing anger, her panic, her indescribable pain, her disappointment in humans. She hated them. She hated these men with all her heart. Their reeking breaths, their sweaty rough hands, their horrible cruelty and lack of empathy. They deserved to die. 

The magic inside Taren gathered within seconds, becoming stronger and more pulsating than ever before. Even if she had wanted it, she could not have prevented it.

_Dread Wolf, give me the power to kill these humans_ , she thought desperately, before she cried out and a magical green shock wave exploded from within her, hurling the screaming Templars away from her. The ground trembled, and sleeping birds and bats soared into the sky, screaming. A howling wind shook the trees as Taren quickly sat up. She was dizzy and her nose was bleeding from releasing too much magic at once. Her lip had already stopped bleeding but it still dripped from her ear and it ran from her chest all the way down her legs as she shakily stood up to see what the magical explosion had caused. Three of the Templars laid around the brook with their limbs twisted. Their faces were burned away. The Templar who had choked her, and because of whom her throat was all blue, was choking on his own blood as the shockwave had impaled him on a branch.

The worst of them, the one who had wanted to cut out her heart, was lying whimpering in the shallow brook, the water had turned red and he was wailing like a little child. Taren's own tears burned in her eyes, but the anger was stronger than the pain and her self-pity. 

Then she felt it. The magical shockwave had awakened ancient spirits of the forest, and the brutality wrought had turned them into demons. Three despair demons crawled out of the shadows of the forest, groaning and shrieking. Taren showed no trace of fear, merely looked adamantly at the templar who laid trembling and bleeding in the brook, watching the demons from panic-stricken eyes. She did not even consider the possibility that the demons might attack her - but they did not. They ignored her and attacked the last Templar with a deafening screech. 

"Dread Wolf take you, _Shem_ ", she whispered.

His screams died out very soon and the demons dissolved into black smoke. The water of the stream was black with blood and only now Taren allowed herself to take a deep breath and relax her tense muscles a little. It was over. Her hands shook and she was surprised about herself. She never thought she could be so brave - and pray to the Dread Wolf. She had never done that before. Elgar'nan would probably have been more appropriate, but ... she had just felt that the God of Vengeance would not listen to her. The God of Rebellion, the black sheep of the Elvhen Pantheon, however, would. 

She shook her head and reached for her bleeding ear. It was still whole. He had torn out a piece with his jagged knife, but at least it was still whole. She felt for her chest and cried out softly. The cut was long and deep, her clothes were covered in blood that reached to her feet. Her strength and skill would not be enough to heal such a large wound or stop the bleeding. But it would be enough to help the Halla. She could still feel its presence. Taren walked with faint steps to the bush where the Halla was hiding. She let her hand glow reassuringly and the Halla seemed to sense that she was merely trying to help. So it slowly limped into the moonlight.

Taren knelt heavily in front of the frightened animal, whose white fur almost seemed to shimmer in the light of the moon. She smiled slightly. Despite the cruelty she had experienced only moments before. Despite her aching and bleeding wounds. And then she felt her cheeks getting damp. She was crying. Silently, she let the tears run freely as she healed the Halla's leg with her remaining powers. She barely noticed how the Halla's heartbeat calmed down and how it nudged Taren's shoulder with its snout. As if it wanted to comfort her.

When she was finished and the Halla was able to put its leg down without any problems, her hands were shaking badly. The blood loss was tremendous. She hoped she would survive. She still had so much to do. She needed to see more than just trees and Aravels all the time. As the Halla happily hopped back into the forest, Taren's vision grew worse and worse, gradually darkening in her eyes. She could only hear her own heartbeat and panting breaths before she collapsed entirely to the side.

Before she lost consciousness, she heard the lonely howl of a wolf in the distance.

**~3 days later~**

Taren was lying on a plank bed in a large tent with her upper body bandaged as she awoke. She smelled Prophet's Laurel and Spindleweed and heard the Keeper having a heated conversation with her father.

"She's 24, of course she can!" her father's calm but determined voice, always sounding a little sad.

The Keeper's annoyed, reproving sigh. "That might be true, but look what happened to her! If we had not felt or heard that magical explosion, we never would have found her! The wolves would have eaten her!"

"You're being theatrical, Keeper."

"You're a fool!"

"And I'm awake," Taren muttered, holding her head. It was aching and her ear was throbbing in sync with her heartbeat.

"Taren!" her father and the Keeper called out at the same time, coming immediately to her plank bed.

"How are you, are you in much pain? The healers have been attempting to treat your wounds, but those wounds are slow to heal. There will be scars," said the Keeper, who visibly had to pull herself together so that her voice did not tremble.

"As soon as I'm back on my feet, I'm leaving the clan and no one can stop me," Taren said hoarsely. Her throat felt terrible and burned.

"But-" the Keeper tried to disagree in a huff, but Taren slowly sat up, silencing the old woman. She eyed her bandaged torso, her upper lip treated with a sticky ointment, her bandaged ear. There were tears in the old woman's eyes. "I just want to protect you ... I thought ... I thought you could be my First-", she whispered in a choked voice. Never before had anyone seen her truly cry. Until now.

Taren felt strangely empty. It pained her that the Keeper felt this way, and she felt sorry for her, but she just could not go on living like this any longer.

"There ... There is this meeting of humans in a month. In the Temple of Sacred Ashes in the Frostback Mountains. That might be of some concern to us, too, and we certainly need someone to keep us ... to keep us informed," her father suddenly said. Taren was surprised when she looked into his green eyes.

The Keeper also looked at her father, puzzled, and then she was silent for quite a while. "Are you sure Taren?"

"You know I was sure many years ago."

"But why now? I mean ... Templars ... _Shem_ did this to you!"

"And I paid them back, or didn't you see the bodies?"

"Yes, of course, it is just ..."

"It's just what? I almost died there in that clearing by the brook. There was only one thing going through my mind - Which was that all my life I've only ever seen fields and meadows and woods. Aravels and Halla and the clan. My mind is made up. I need more than that to be happy, Keeper."

Silence.

"You are just like your mother," her father whispered proudly, tears glistening in his eyes. Taren's eyebrow merely twitched at the mention of her dead mother. She did not let the pain get to her. She was already in enough pain.

"All right. I will allow you to leave the clan," the Keeper suddenly said in a firm voice. "Someone who can fight back like you can will do well out there."

A rush of relief came over Taren, and her wounds suddenly hurt much less. "Thank you," she whispered.

Finally, after such a long time spent feeling trapped, always longing to be far away ... finally her dream became reality. The world was now open to her and she was free. She knew that her life would change completely as soon as she left the clan. Nothing would ever be the same again, and that was a good thing. 

She was destined for more ... And she would finally reach for the sky.


End file.
